Small Circle

  It’s... been another three months, hasn’t it. I’m sorry, I really am. Though that word means fuck-all in the grand scheme, especially when nobody can see the meaning behind it. If there’s any meaning at all.

  It sounds silly, but the last few months have been so up and down that I’m not sure where I’m at right now. I’ve been playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons like most other people on the planet that own a Switch. There hasn’t been an AC game that I haven’t enjoyed, so I knew the latest instalment was something I wanted to personally experience rather than vicariously live through an obnoxious YouTube gamer. I’ve really enjoyed having a new little project to work on, (my island), even though I never make it all that pretty. I have villagers I love and a space that’s my own, so that’s what matters to me.

  It’s nice, in a way, to be able to escape my own circle. You wouldn’t think it be possible to fuck up and still be a bad person when you only talk to like, three people? But trust me, it’s still very much a risk if you’re an idiot like I am. Imagine potentially sacrificing something you love so much for literally no reason at all. If you can’t think of how that would make you feel, or can’t begin to conceive of what that would be like, then just trust me when I say that it’s bad.

  Is the reason I stay away from people really for my benefit? Or is it for theirs? I think about that a lot. Is it because I’m scared of what they’ll do to me? Or because I’m scared of what I could do to them if I become even more apathetic and even more complacent?

  Of course, these questions are all rhetoric. There’s no telling what the answers really are, hell, even I don’t know most of the time.

  I miss having things to be passionate about other than games. I miss writing. I miss being interested in other things. I miss being interested in people. I miss expressing my political stances in spaces that really didn’t matter to people that didn’t even care to hear about what you thought or believed. Those don’t exist anymore. This is my only platform. I have no interests. I am an empty shell of what I once believed myself to be. Where does that leave me?

  What’s it like, you ask? If I could explain it any better than I already have, then I would. But I can’t. I mentally, physically, emotionally, (and any other planes besides these that might exist), can’t. There are no words for it. None that I can conjure up. The only thing that comes close is this empty feeling... I need to do some more thinking.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

08/06/2020

Him.

  Last September was around the last time I posted anything before my ‘hiatus’ or whatever. It was around then that I lost someone who I thought would be a permanent fixture in my life. He ghosted me and despite this happening many times before with other people, he was different and it really fucked me up. I didn’t know how to deal with it or how I was even supposed to move past it without an explanation. I don’t know whether I am past it at this point and there are still things I can’t play/do/listen to/think about without thinking of him, and that is the semi-permanent damage his actions have done to me. It’s unfair, and I still have no explanation. But he is alive and I suppose that’s all that matters. I hope he’s happy without me even though I am not without him.

——————————————————

  This part is being written a month or so after the first bit up there.

  I’m still in the same-ish boat as I was when it first happened, though I can feel myself slowly healing and fixing back together. It’s not perfect, as I am not either. And neither was he. Nor is anyone. That’s why this happened in the first place. At the end of the day, I got too close. I saw being his friend as some kind of prize in a way, thus lowering my self-worth. The fact that I was happy someone like him would ever think to be friends with ‘someone like me’ says a lot about my low self-esteem. It felt like I’d won him, which is kind of sick.

  I felt so much anger in the first few months. I for some reason thought maybe if I vented it online he’d see how much I was hurting and want to fix what he’d done to me, but I was wrong. He unfollowed me about a month after.

  That hit hard. That hurt.

  It’s hard to let go, but sometimes you have to. Your health depends on if.

Signed,
Elijah.
Meta Sentience.
08/03/2020

Beautiful Sunday

  Today is a better day. I don’t feel as miserable or as hopeless. I don’t have as many depressive episodes lately, which is of course a massive improvement. When I do have them, they’re pretty bad. I cry, I self-deprecate, I judge myself harshly, but once it passes and I can see clearly I feel better. Cleansed almost. Not in some hippy dippy way, but it’s unarguable that an emotional and mental disposal is often necessary to get through to the other side. And that’s okay. It’s actually really healthy.

  It’s weird. When I’m in it and I can’t see properly in the dark, I want anything else to be happening at all. But once it’s over I feel better. Usually in the morning after a really deep, long sleep. I often don’t think about it at all. Only now that I’m reflecting on my last one am I actually thinking about it. My head feels fogged. I know what caused it, but it seems so silly and insignificant now.

  For what it’s worth, I’m in a good place right now. How long will it last? I don’t know. But right now, everything is okay.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

16/02/2020

Happy Valentines Day

  I don’t know what to title this, so. It’s not like it matters anyway. This place has just become a dumping ground for my feelings where they’re mostly safe from prying eyes. Nobody visits here anyway, so there’ll be no intruders. It’s just you and I for now.

  I don’t know what it is lately, but I feel alone. Isolated even when there’s somebody in the flat with me. All I have to do in the daytime is scroll social media, and in hindsight that makes me feel worse. I get to see all the fun things my friends are doing with their friends, posting all their fun times together but never when I’m involved. I post a lot about other people, but nobody ever posts about me. It doesn’t matter. I mean, it’s pretty irrelevant but it’s just funny to me how everybody gets mentioned here and there except me. Is there something wrong with me? Don’t I deserve the same attention everyone else gets? Jesus, what’s wrong with me. I just wish I could answer that question.

  I’m miserable. All the time. There’s nothing to do and when I’m unoccupied, it’s the worst. It hurts. If I had the guts, maybe I wouldn’t be here. I’m not suicidal, but sometimes it feels like things would be better if I wasn’t around. I wouldn’t hurt anymore. Nobody would have to bother thinking about me anymore. The people that are already in the process of forgetting me could do so guilt free. Because I know that’s what they’re doing, subconsciously or not, so many people I know just don’t feel the need to get in touch anymore.

  There must be something wrong with me. There has to be. But what? Do I radiate some kind of... I don’t know, unrelenting stench of fucking foulness that people just can’t bring themselves to continue being around me? I don’t want this anymore. I want anything else but this. I feel so empty, so sad, so upset, so angry, so frustrated. Nobody thinks about me and I’m sick of thinking about them. Always having to be the one that reaches out. What about me? What about when I need someone to reach out.

  I  want to cry. I need to cry. But I can’t. It just won’t come. I’ve spent so much time crying over people that don’t give a shit about me, and here I am still repeating the same process. How do I break the cycle? By not getting attached. That’s done me a world of good so far, so I need to keep that up. Stop getting attached to stupid, worthless people that have no use to me.

  I’m just sick of it. Sick of it all.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

14/02/2020

Hello

  I wrote a post not too long back, (around September time... so I guess it was a long time ago. Oh well), basically saying what had happened between me and a now ex-friend, but in the end I didn’t post it. Maybe I will sometime. It’s still in my drafts. It’s not that I was afraid to post it, or that I even forgot, I just couldn’t see the point. It was just a tonne of vented anger at a situation that wasn’t going to change. I have foresight now, but even then I knew that he wasn’t coming back.

  Fucking Road Man.

  I just hate being treated like I don’t matter. And it seems like everyone that gets their mitts on me, figuratively, manages it. And then when they have, they always go on about how they didn’t mean to fuck me up, how they didn’t see things how I’m being made to see them, and continue the fucking behaviour anyway. At the end of the day, people are fucked and you’re best off staying away from as many as you can. Don’t trust people easily, there’s no point. None at all. You don’t owe shit to anyone but yourself.

  Anyways, I got the app for this blog so now maybe I’ll post more often. I say that a lot, though, so I’ll try to show rather than tell.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

11/02/2020

...

Hello, I Must Be

Some people really struggle to accept help. I know that because I am one of those people, whether I would like to admit it or not.

People often think they need to be the pillars for other people; the one-man, monolithic support system that never breaks down. But the reality is that's just not sustainable.

It's okay to need people. And it's okay to not want to admit you need people. But sometimes it can pay to take that step, as difficult as it may feel.

I'm only just learning this myself, and I took the hard route. It's okay to do things in your own time and at your own comfort rate.

---

This post was written entirely using code, so maybe I'll start posting more again because I'm having fun with it. Maybe I'll start a new blog entirely.

I've kind of wanted to for a while, but I've also had reservations about the idea.

We'll see.

Signed,
Elijah.
Meta Sentience.
31/07/2019

This is a lot of effort for a line of text.

Boredom makes you do questionable things.